Michael Vey 3 ~ Battle of the Ampere (24 page)

Zeus and I jumped in the front seat, and Zeus started up the truck.

Taylor, Abigail, and Tessa had already climbed into the back of the transport, and Taylor waved to Jack and Ian.

I parted the screen that divided the cab from the back. “Ian, where are Ostin and McKenna?”

He looked around for a moment. “They’re over there,” he said, pointing.

“Where?” I asked.

“Wait for it.”

Just then Ostin and McKenna came running out of the bakery and back up the alley. “Zeus, they’re over there,” I said. “Let’s get them.”

“Got it,” he said. He shoved the stick shift forward, and the truck sluggishly ground into gear, then lurched forward. “This thing’s a whale,” he said.

He turned the truck around as tightly as he could, then drove through a ditch, which tumbled everyone in back, and into the road. I hung out the passenger window, waving Ostin’s poncho to get their attention. McKenna saw us first.

“Get in back!” I shouted to them.

Zeus stopped the truck, and Jack and Ian pulled them in. Taylor pounded on the metal side of the truck to signal us. “They’re in! Go!”

“Which way?” Zeus asked.

“That way,” I said, pointing to the town’s only stoplight. “Take the highway east to Cuzco.”

We drove around the outside of the town, onto the highway. I kept waiting for someone to come after us, but no one did. As the town fell out of sight, Taylor stuck her head up into the cab.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Never been better,” I said.

“Good,” she said, nodding. “Cute little town.”

*

The one good thing about our brush with danger and narrow escape (other than that we
did
escape) was that it temporarily took our minds from the grief we were all carrying—though I’m not sure if trading fear for pain is such a bargain.

From Paucartambo we drove to the ancient Incan hill town of Pisac, but for obvious reasons, we didn’t stop. From Pisac it was only thirty-five more miles to Cuzco, which was a pretty straight drive except that the bridge over the Urubamba River was washed out and the temporary bridge allowed only one lane of traffic, so we had to wait a long time to cross.

Taylor climbed up front with Zeus and me while everyone else sat or slept in the back. No one got too comfortable. We were driving a stolen army truck and we figured that it was only a matter of time before someone noticed. Ian sat looking back to keep watch. We passed several army vehicles going the opposite direction, but they didn’t even acknowledge us. We reached the outskirts of Cuzco after dark.

T
he city of Cuzco is the kind of place you see in travel magazines and on TV travel shows. Of course Ostin had to tell us all he knew about the city.

“Cuzco is not only the ancient capital of the Incan empire, but it’s the official tourist city of Peru—and it attracts more than two million visitors a year. The original city was built in the shape of a puma, or mountain lion, which, to the Incans, was a sacred animal.

“When the Spanish explorer Pizarro arrived in Peru with his soldiers, the Incan king Atahualpa tried to run him out, but the king was captured by the Spanish conquistadors. For his release, Pizarro demanded that the Incans fill a large room with gold. The Incans paid the ransom, but Pizarro just took their gold, then executed the king anyway. That’s where the saying ‘a king’s ransom’ came from.

“The Inca Atahualpa was the last great Incan emperor, and forty years after his death the great Incan empire came to an end. The
Spanish tore down the Incan palace and built a cathedral on top of it.”

Ostin’s Cuzco trivia went on for about twenty minutes. With the exception of McKenna’s occasional response, no one else said a thing and eventually even Ostin got tired of hearing himself.

As we drove toward the city, Ian and Taylor changed places and Ian became our GPS, guiding us to the town square, the Plaza de Armas. As Ostin had said, Cuzco was a major tourist attraction and the traffic slowed as the area was crowded with tourists and the people who profit from them.

Zeus parked the army truck behind the cathedral of Santo Domingo, and we all got out, looking around in awe. The cobblestone-paved square was large and beautifully decorated in the architecture of the Spanish Renaissance. Outside of history books I had never seen anything like it.

It seemed to me that everyone was looking at us, which made me nervous, but wasn’t surprising. We hadn’t bathed in weeks and our clothes were ridiculously dirty. Only Jack, whose clothes were stained with blood, had changed shirts and was wearing an Elgen guard’s undershirt.

We split up into smaller groups to avoid drawing any more attention to ourselves, arranging to meet in one hour at the large fountain in the center of the plaza. Then Taylor, Ostin, McKenna, and I set out in search of Hostel El Triumfo.

Finding the place wasn’t as easy as I thought it would be. All Jaime had told us about the hostel’s location was that it was near the town square. The square was considerably larger than I had imagined and there were dozens of side streets and tiny alleyways leading off of it.

Finally, Ostin asked a shopkeeper where we could find the place and he pointed us in the general direction. Taylor and I started off for it while Ostin and McKenna fell back, following us at a distance.

*

The hostel wasn’t especially notable, and Taylor and I walked past it twice before she spotted a small, plastic sign hanging near the hostel’s splintered wood front door. We stepped inside, quickly shutting the door behind us.

The tiny lobby was dark and austere, lit only with candles. At the back of the room, standing behind a small counter, was an old Peruvian man with silver hair and bushy gray eyebrows as thick as caterpillars. Next to him was a young woman dressed in modern clothing. She looked close to our age, perhaps just a year or two older. The man looked at us suspiciously.

I walked up to the counter. “Do you speak English?” I asked.

“Sí, señor. Un poco.”

“We would like a room for the night.”

The man’s dark eyes darted back and forth nervously. “I am sorry, but we have no room. It is the tourist season.”

Taylor glanced at me.

“I’m a friend of Jaime,” I whispered.

The young woman glanced at the man. The man said, “Who?”

“Jaime,” I repeated.

He just looked at me. I suddenly wondered if we had come to the wrong place. “Is this Hostel El Triumfo?”

“Sí.”

“You don’t know Jaime?”

The man laughed. “I have many amigos named Jaime. What is his last name?”

I didn’t know Jaime’s last name. I looked at Taylor, but she shrugged. “We don’t know.”

“He must not be much of a friend. I am sorry, but there are other hotels nearby. Perhaps they have a vacancy.”

I was speechless, unsure of what to do. The man raised his massive eyebrows, as if inviting us to leave. “Do you need anything else?”

“No,” I said. “Thank you. We’ll keep looking.”

Taylor and I walked back out into the bustling alley. I sat down on the sidewalk and Taylor sat next to me.

“What now?” she asked.

“I still have the radio. I’ll call Jaime.” I froze. “No.”

“What?”

“I left the radio in the truck.”

“That’s no big deal,” she said. “It’s not too far.”

“No, not in this truck. It’s in the pickup truck.”

“Back in Paucartambo?”

I groaned. “I screwed up.”

“We weren’t planning on being attacked,” she said.

“I was sloppy,” I said. “We should always plan on being attacked. I was supposed to destroy the radio if we were caught, and now they have it. And we have no way to contact Jaime.”

Taylor looked worried. “Without Jaime, how do we get home?”

I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

She looked scared. “But he knows we’re here, right?”

“He said to meet him at Hostel El Triumfo. But apparently he was mistaken.”

Just then someone said, “Amigo.”

I looked up. The elderly man from the hostel was standing across the alley. He walked up to us. “You are Michael?”

“Yes,” I said.

“Excuse me, but my granddaughter talks too much. I could not risk her recognizing you. All of Peru is looking for you. Even in Cuzco, where there are many Americans, it is dangerous for you. They have put your friends’ pictures in the newspapers and on posters everywhere. You and your friends must get off the street quickly.” He handed me a brass key. “This is a key to a room in the back of the hostel. You may enter it through that door, so no one will see you.” He pointed to a blue metal door set in the white stucco wall. “You must hide in there until Jaime arrives.”

“You’ve spoken to Jaime?”

“Yesterday,” he said. “He told me to watch for you. He will be happy to know that you have made it here.”

I was relieved to hear that Jaime was safe.

“Until he comes, you and your friends must stay inside. I will bring extra blankets and pillows and some water and food.”

“I need to find my friends,” I said. I put the key in my pocket. “Thank you.”

“Thank you for what you are doing,” he said. “You are most brave.”

We walked down to where Ostin and McKenna were standing near the street corner.

“Any luck?” Ostin asked.

“We found it,” I said. “You guys go with Taylor back to the room, I’ll round up everyone else.”

“We can help,” Ostin said.

“No, they have pictures of you, but not me.”

“We’ll check out the room,” Taylor said, “then I’ll wait for everyone at the blue door.”

“See you in a minute,” I said. I handed Taylor the key, then walked back down past the hostel to the plaza, which even at the late hour was bustling with humanity. Apparently parts of Cuzco still had electricity, as light emanated from many of the shops and restaurants, and the plaza itself was flooded with golden light. A Peruvian street band was playing near the fountain, filling the air with a carnival ambience. There were tourists everywhere, laughing, buying trinkets, and drinking. Some of them were dancing. I envied them. I wanted to have fun too. Under different circumstances I would have.

I found Zeus, Ian, Tessa, and Abigail sitting on the ledge of the fountain eating ice cream. The fountain was half as wide as Mitchell’s swimming pool, with a large bowl held up by three mermen who were blowing shell horns with water coming out.

“Want some ice cream?” Tessa asked as I approached.

“I’m okay,” I said. “We found our contact. We’ve got to go.”

“I don’t want to go in yet,” Abigail said. “It’s fun out here.”

“It’s a beautiful night,” Tessa said.

“The man at the hostel said it isn’t safe for us. He said that they’ve shown your pictures in the newspaper.”

“Great, we’re famous,” Zeus said.

“Infamous,” Tessa corrected.

“It’s just like I said,” Abigail said.

Zeus stood. “Let’s go.” He turned to me. “Where’s this place?”

I gestured with my head. “Walk up that alley about a hundred feet. On your right side you’ll come to a blue metal door. Taylor will be waiting for you.”

“I see it,” Ian said. “Let’s go.”

“We escaped and I still feel like a prisoner,” Abigail said, turning away from me.

“Does anyone know where Jack is?” I asked.

“He went into the cathedral,” Ian said. “I can get him.”

“That’s okay, I will. They didn’t show my picture.”

“I’ll go with you,” Tessa said.

I hesitated. “You probably shouldn’t. . . .”

“They don’t have my picture either,” she said firmly. “I’m just another tourist. You’ll look less suspicious with me.”

“All right,” I said. “I’ll see you guys at the room.”

Zeus, Ian, and Abigail walked off, leaving Tessa and me alone.

As Tessa and I walked from the fountain, she took my hand. “We should hold hands. We’ll look less like terrorists.”

“All right,” I said, feeling a little uncomfortable. She noticed my apprehension and let go of my hand.

She was quiet a moment, then said, “Ever since we rescued your friends you’ve hardly spoken to me. What’s the deal, aren’t we friends anymore?”

“It’s not that. I’ve had a lot on my mind.”

“You mean you have a lot of Taylor on your mind.”

“She’s my girlfriend.”

“Does that mean we can’t be friends anymore?”

I stopped. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ignore you. There’s just a lot going on.”

“I know,” she said. “I’m not trying to bust your chops.” She stopped and looked into my eyes. “It’s just, we got pretty close in the jungle. I don’t think we should just throw it away.”

I didn’t know what to say. “I’m sorry.”

She smiled sadly at me then cocked her head toward the cathedral. “Come on, let’s get Jack.”

As we neared the cathedral I asked, “What’s the deal with you and Zeus?”

She looked at me with a pained expression. “You really want to open that door?”

“Only if you want to talk about it.”

“He was my boyfriend for, like, three years. It was great. Then when I left for Peru, I didn’t hear from him once. It was like, I love you, then, who are you? I was pretty hurt.”

“Have you talked to him about it?”